


Memories

by Keldae



Series: Cornerstone [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Other, PTSD, Trauma, referenced Male Imperial Agent/Female Jedi Consular
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 22:36:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keldae/pseuds/Keldae
Summary: Years after their family was torn apart, father and son both try to return home.





	1. Chapter 1

“My lord, we truly are honoured by your presence to our humble world.” The mayor of Syward, an elderly rotund man, was a chatty sort of individual, and apparently quite keen on gaining the ear or the friendship of Lord Kallig. “If it would not be too bold of me to inquire- what brings you to Lavisar? We have not had a Sith Lord grace us since Lord Maglion departed several years ago.”

“My reasons for visiting are private,” Sorand answered, his gaze hidden behind the mask of his ancestor that he wore. It probably wouldn’t do for him to be recognized as Sorand Taerich here when he was supposed to be dead with the rest of his family. “And I would appreciate your discretion with my visit.”

“Of course, my lord. You need only ask.” The mayor bowed. “Shall I send for an escort to lead you to the city, or accompany you myself?”

“No, thank you. I do not require an escort.” And truthfully, Sorand was getting sick of the man’s pandering. “The only thing I require is privacy.”

“.. yes, my lord.” The mayor tried to hide his disappointment from his face, and failed miserably. If Sorand had been any other Sith, he likely wouldn’t have ignored it. “Your associate has my contact information, should you require my services during your stay here.”

“Thank you. That will be all.” Sorand dismissed the man with a wave of his hand, and as soon as the old man had finally disappeared, turned back to his ship. “Are you ready, Talos?”

“Of course, my lord!” The archaeologist had, surprisingly, found common ground with his new Sith employer in their love of history, and had quickly become someone Sorand could almost call a friend. “The speeders are ready to go. I’ll follow you.”

“Good. Try not to get lost- there’s not a straight road outside of the city anywhere.” Sorand mounted his speeder, waited for confirmation that Talos was right on his tail, and then took off, bypassing Syward entirely and heading for the outskirts. He hadn’t set foot on Lavisar in over half a decade, nor breathed the air, nor left his footprint in the reddish dust, but that didn’t stop this planet from being home in a happier time.

* * *

The road looked like nobody had traveled it in years and had fallen into disrepair. Sorand gritted his teeth as he finally rounded the corner and parked his speeder in front of the rusty gate. “I don’t remember the road being _quite_ that bad,” he grumbled as he dismounted, sounding less like a menacing, powerful Sith and more like the grouchy young adult that he was - all of seventeen years old and trying to act older.

“Hardly a problem at all, my lord,” Talos cheerfully said as he parked beside Sorand. He looked to be in pain, but still presented his lord with a happy demeanour. “You should have seen some of the trails on Hoth. Only a tauntaun could have managed those, and even then, not terribly well.”

Sorand tightly smiled behind the mask at Talos’ attempt to lighten the mood. “I can believe it.” He turned back to the gate and studied the lock, easily disabling it with the Force and pushing the rusted durasteel bars back. A soft breeze came floating down to dance against his face as he removed his mask, his jaw set tightly as he recalled the last time he’d seen this path and this view.

_You killed my mum! Let me go! Mum!_

“My lord?” Sorand started when he heard Talos beside him. “Is everything all right?”

“As much as it can be,” the young Sith finally said as he started up the path, his feet remembering every step needed. _Korin and I used to race each other down this path,_  he remembered with a small, sad smile. _And when we got the gizka he’d chase us around. Mum would sit back and laugh until we found the dustiest area of the yard to play in…_

Then he saw the house and froze. His childhood memories had always painted the building as intact and beautiful, with the old antique speeder around the side that Dad had enjoyed tinkering with when he was home, or Mum’s flowers growing up the side of the house despite Lavisar’s finicky climate. Now the gardens were nothing more than weeds, and the old speeder was a rusty, burned-out shell on the ground. The house itself…  _the damage doesn’t look bad from here,_ Sorand mused. And it really didn’t, if one ignored the broken windows, the weathered carbon scoring on the walls, and the boarded-up door, and the general air of neglect around the place. He stepped forward, his feet feeling like weights on his legs, and gently pried the boards away with the Force. The front door was still the shattered wreck that he remembered from years ago.

_Take the boy._

_What about the other one they’re supposed to have?_

_Capture or kill him, it makes no difference to me. I want both of their brats dealt with._

He coughed as he entered the home’s gaping front entry, dust stirring with every step.  _Mum would have had an aneurysm if she’d seen how badly this place was kept,_  was the first absent thought to come to mind, and it almost made him laugh. The sitting room to the left looked nothing like normal- couches flipped, tables turned over, Mum’s decorations shattered on the floor. To the right, Dad’s study for when he had to be formal and official. Sorand and Korin had never been allowed to see Dad’s visitors for that, and even Mum had tried to keep a low profile.

Further down the hallway. The kitchen was surprisingly intact, if smelling of dust and mould and food long inedible. Across the hall, the guest ‘fresher, and then Mum and Dad’s room. The nights that the two brothers had curled up on the large bed beside their mother when their father was away for work…

Now was when the carbon scoring on the walls became more pronounced. Some of the gashes in the walls were not round holes, but straight cuts that burned through the materials. He paused at one area of particularly concentrated scoring on the walls, knowing that this was where his mother had made her final stand in a futile effort to give her younger son time to flee.

_You’re not taking my son! Sorand, run!_

_You’re a disgrace to this world, Jedi. You and your spawn are a blight to our name._

_NO! MUM!_

Down the hall a bit more. On the right, the two rooms that Korin and Sorand had slept in, connected by a door in the dividing wall. The Sith gently pushed open the door that had been his and looked inside, remembering what a ten-year-old boy had considered to be important. Books and datapads scattered across the bed.A crudely-made replica of something that looked suspiciously like a Jedi holocron. Buildings and ships constructed from building blocks. An old map, printed on a paper-like material, pinned to the wall. Sorand had spent hours as a child studying the map of the galaxy and asking his parents for stories about the different worlds.

Clenching his jaw against the sudden lump in his throat he could feel, Sorand stepped away from the door and looked into Korin’s room instead. That was the disaster zone that every mother of a twelve-year-old had dreaded- clothes scattered all over the place, a handheld gaming system abandoned on the bed, replica ships and starfighters on the floor. A similar map to Sorand’s had also hung in Korin’s room, but this one had marks on it- circles, exclamation points, and tiny notes of “I’m gonna see this!” and “I want to see here!” Korin had always had a wanderlust to match Sorand’s need for stories and lore. It was probably why he’d skipped school to go find some sort of mischief around the spaceport that day.

Sorand crumpled to his knees inside the door, fighting to keep his grief for his brother silent. Talos, wisely, had stayed several paces away and was pretending to be very intrigued by one of the damaged paintings on the wall. The Sith pressed his fist against his mouth to keep his cries silent, but couldn’t stop the tears no matter how strong in the Force he was. Korin had been his best friend, his playmate, his confidante. And the raiders and Maglion had torn them apart.

_Where’s my brother? Let me go! Mum! Korin!_

It took several long minutes for Sorand to finally regain his feet and step out of Korin’s room, keeping his back to Talos as he continued down the hallway so the archaeologist wouldn’t see the tear tracks left on the Sith’s pale face. Two rooms left- the family ‘fresher (mostly so the boys wouldn’t mess up the nice ‘fresher Mum and Dad kept clean for their guests), and Dad’s office. That had been one area of the house the boys had never been allowed into, and Korin had been grounded for two weeks the one time he’d snuck inside anyway and Dad had caught him. For a long second, Sorand hesitated, the childhood fear of a severe scolding or some other punishment staying his hand.

 _Who’s going to punish you now? Mum died here and Dad was killed trying to rescue you._ With a bitter snort of laughter, Sorand pressed his hand against the door. It was still locked, but he managed to short out the electricity and pick open the physical lock with the Force. Korriban’s training, while brutal, had taught him a lot.

Inside was almost anticlimactically disappointing. There was less dust here, which Sorand supposed made sense for how tightly secure the room had been. Dad had a secure storage locker in here- when Sorand bypassed the lock and opened it, he saw a surprising number of weapons.  _Wasn’t Dad a diplomat? Why did he have several blaster rifles and sniper rifles? And a ton of knives and explosives?_  Something in the bottom of the locker made him frown and kneel to investigate; the locker had a false bottom, one that Sorand was able to lift. His jaw dropped when he saw the relics hidden underneath.  _These look like Jedi datacrons! Why would Dad have Jedi relics here?_ He hummed in thought- Mum had had access to the office too, and she’d unveiled herself as a Jedi in the last minutes of her life.  _Were these hers?_ He gently touched one of the datacrons, watching it glow as he pressed his fingers against its textured surface, before withdrawing. His parents might have been dead and their home long abandoned, but it still felt wrong to take his mother’s possessions with him from this locked place.

Besides, these were obviously not Sith relics. Like Thanaton needed more of a reason to try and kill Sorand- having Jedi artifacts would just seal his fate. He could come back for them after dealing with Thanaton.

Leaving the locker behind, Sorand crossed over to his father’s desk. The computer was still functional and powered, and the controls lit up as Sorand touched them.  _How does it still have power after being abandoned for so long?_  “What do the records say happened with this property?” he asked out loud, his voice too loud in the tomb-like silence of the house.

“Your father made it back here the day after your family was attacked, my lord. By all accounts, he only lingered long enough to give your mother a pyre, and then he took off to find any news of you or your brother.” Talos stood at the door to the office, his voice quiet and sombre. He knew of Sorand’s backstory and birth name- everyone on the ship did, and had been sworn to utter silence. “He reportedly never returned after giving the orders for the house to be closed up.”

“Did he buy a home somewhere else?” Sorand asked as he idly tapped at the computer controls. ACCESS DENIED flashed across the screen. That was something that Sorand’s abilities with the Force couldn’t get him around.

“Not that was listed in Imperial records, my lord.” Talos hesitated. “Considering your belief that Lord Maglion ordered the attack, it’s not impossible that your father could have defected to the Republic and relocated there. Or he may simply have lived on his ship while he was looking for you.”

“Hmmm.” Sorand had never really considered the possibility that his father had become a traitor to the Empire. If he’d knowingly married a Jedi, it was definitely possible that his father could have had Republic sympathies for years. That was another piece of information Sorand would keep to himself.

“My lord, if I may…” Talos entered the room and stepped to a corner that Sorand hadn’t yet visited. “I believe the dust here has been disturbed recently, and not by us. There’s far less dust or decay here, compared to the rest of the house.”

“There was no combat damage in here. Dad always kept this place locked up.”

“But to have what little dust there is in here mussed? And that computer active?” Talos frowned. “I’m no detective and would never last a day with Imperial Intelligence, but… I believe someone has been here recently, before us.”

“That’s impossible.” Sorand frowned as he examined the dust Talos had mentioned. “It looks like… a secret entrance, perhaps?” He knocked on the wall, then started running his hands over the flat surface until his fingers found the hairline cracks, too uniform to be natural decay. “But who could be in here?”

“You said there were only two people who ever had access to this room, my lord. Your mother is confirmed to be deceased, and your father seemed to be the type of individual to take every precaution with security. I doubt any regular explorer could have found their way in here, not without causing damage elsewhere in the house. Someone would have had to know about a secret entrance to be able to use it.”

Sorand turned to stare at Talos. “Are you suggesting my father might be alive?”

Talos shrugged. “It’s possible that he survived being shot, my lord. Stranger things have happened before. And if he’s Force-blind, you might not have been able to sense his death or survival. You were likely a traumatized child at the time.”

“That’s not wrong,” Sorand muttered as he frowned at the computer in thought. Memories raced through his mind faster than he could track- his brother’s cheeky grin at the window only hours before hell had struck, his mother’s scream as she’d been killed by Maglion’s lightsaber and the raiders’ blaster fire, his father’s body falling in a heap with a blaster mark over his chest.  _If Dad was wearing armour under his jacket…_

He straightened, new hope stirring within his chest and a glint to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “Let’s return to the ship, Talos. I’ve made my peace with what used to be my home - and I don’t think I’ll find any information on my father’s current whereabouts here.”

“Of course, my lord.” Talos straightened his shoulders as he followed Sorand back out of the room, taking care to close the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Something was off. Reanden froze as he pushed open the secret entrance to his old hideout in the ruin of what used to be his home - it hurt him so badly to come back here for any reason, but as long as he didn’t look at where his sons had slept or where his wife had died or anything else that reminded him of his family, he could cope. Nobody would ever expect him to have a safehouse here.

But something was  _wrong._ A blink brought up one of the overlays on his vision from his implants as he scanned for biosigns in the house.

“Agent?” Vector squinted over the old agent’s shoulder. “What is wrong?”

No biosigns. That was something. Reanden glanced down and lowly growled when he saw the strange bootprints in the dust. “Someone’s been in here.” Drawing his blaster pistol, he crept over to the storage locker, feeling his heart leap into his throat when he saw the marks of fingers on the duraplast.

“We thought this was a secure place.” Vector frowned. “We will investigate the rest of the house.”

“Thanks, let me know what you find.” Reanden slowly eased the locker open as Vector slipped out through the door that should have been locked. No traps set, and all his extra weapons still accounted for, but-  _Oh no._  The fingerprints could be seen on the false bottom of the cabinet, and the opening mechanism for the secret compartment. He lifted the panel and sighed in relief when his wife’s Jedi relics gleamed up at him in the dim light. A quick count confirmed they were all there.

Who would have gone through the effort of breaking into the Taerichs’ old house, gaining entry into Reanden’s office, found his cache of weapons and Jedi relics, and not taken any?  _Kids from Syward on a dare, perhaps? No,_ the spy decided. Any teenager or amateur treasure hunter would have taken at least one of the weapons or raided the Jedi artifacts.  _Imperial Intelligence?_  was his next thought.

 _If it had been Intelligence, they wouldn’t have left such obvious signs of their presence,_  he reasoned, noting the fingermarks and bootprints in the dust. A quick scan of one such fingermark made him scowl in frustration- whoever it had been, they’d been wearing gloves. No identification that way.

“Agent?” called Vector from down the hallway. “Weren’t all the doors in the house supposed to be closed?”

“They were,” Reanden answered as he closed the locker, taking a moment to steel his emotions before stepping out the office door. He had to force himself to not look at the spot where he’d found his wife’s body surrounded by carbon scores in the walls and floor with that terrible lightsaber wound to her chest. “What do you- oh.” The boys’ rooms were open, and that made Reanden snarl. How  _dare_  someone else intrude on what was left of his sons’ lives before the family had been torn apart? It felt like a gross violation of their privacy, even though Reanden didn’t know if they still lived or not.

“We cannot tell if anything was taken from their rooms,” Vector apologized. “Nothing else in the house seems to have been touched, aside from the front door.” Reanden risked a glance over to confirm that yes, someone had removed the boards that had barricaded the house entry. “Shall we investigate that?”

“Yes. While you’re at it, double-check the security cams to make sure they’re still functional.” Reanden slowly stepped into Korin’s room as Vector hurried off, and had to clench his jaw to hold the lingering grief at bay. Everything was still covered in a thick layer of dust, except for the one area right in front of the door where the agent stood. It almost looked like someone in a skirt or robes had fallen to their knees in this spot… Frowning, Reanden slowly closed the door to Korin’s room, then checked Sorand’s. More fingermarks here, tracing the outline of a shelf and the history books on it that his younger son had loved. Finally satisfied that nothing of his sons’ items had been stolen, Reanden closed the door and paused for a long moment, resting his forehead against the duraplast.  _What I wouldn’t give to have my boys back…_  While he was at it, why not wish for his entire family? Airna returned from death, Xaja growing up with her parents and not the Jedi Order…  _At least she’s safe,_  he reminded himself. He’d finally found his daughter only two weeks ago and helped her escape the Emperor’s station with Lord Scourge’s help. Even if he was pretty sure Xaja had no idea who he was, she was safe.

“This is curious,” Vector said as he returned to Reanden’s side. “The boards are still intact, and there is no prying damage to them or the doorframe. We also could not find any tools left by the intruders.”

Reanden frowned. “A Force-user, maybe?”

“That is the conclusion we have reached,” Vector agreed. “We checked the HoloNet; apparently Lord Kallig briefly visited Syward about a week ago, and departed again within the day. He is the only known Force-user to have been in the system.”

“Lord Kallig?” Reanden’s frown deepened. “Darth Zash’s old apprentice, wasn’t he? If he was here…” he glanced back down the hallway. “… why didn’t he take the relics?”

Vector shrugged. “We do not claim to understand the ways of any Sith. But you will be pleased to know that the security cameras are still functioning.”

“Good.” Reanden hurried back to the office and crossed over to his computer.  _Someone tried to access it,_  he realized as he quickly logged in to the house’s security network. “The only intruders were a week ago,” he said as he scanned through the holocam’s logs. “That matches up with Kallig’s visit. Hmm, guy’s got a thing for dark robes and-”

The figure on the logs looked up, giving the camera a clear view of his face. Reanden’s heart skipped a beat as he froze the image. “Sorand…”

“Your younger son? He returned here?” Vector looked over Reanden’s shoulder and nodded. “He looks like you, Agent. He seems to carry himself like you do as well.”

“My son is Lord Kallig…” Reanden whispered as he slowly traced the image of Sorand’s face, greedily absorbing this new image of his missing son. The last time he had seen Sorand, the then-fifteen-year-old was being dragged onto a slaver's ship, fighting his captors and desperately crying out for Reanden as the spy's vision had grown dark. If the slavers hadn't shot and nearly killed him, he could have rescued his son then. “Stars... he’s grown up so much.”  _My boy…_

“And now he’s a Dark Lord of the Sith and in a grudge match with Darth Thanaton,” Vector said. “According to our research.”

That made the blood drain from Reanden’s face. “My son is in a grudge match with  _who?!_ ” Between his oldest child trying to take on the Emperor himself and his youngest child picking a fight with one of the Dark Council…  _Korin, please tell me that wherever you are, if you still live, you’re not raising the same hell as your siblings._ “Come, back to the ship. I need to find my son. If he’s earned Thanaton’s wrath, he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

“Of course, Agent.” Vector quickly followed Reanden back through the secret tunnel exit after the old spy took care to lock and secure everything in the office.


	3. Chapter 3

Reanden had never been able to get to Lord Kallig’s side as the war resumed and he was dragged back into the fight against the Star Cabal. But free of the mental conditioning, he still followed his son’s exploits from afar, heart always in his throat until he got the latest news of Kallig’s feats.  _What the hell was he doing on Belsavis and Voss?_

The old agent supposed he couldn’t really judge, considering what the hell he’d been doing on both worlds, and Corellia afterward. And he’d finally found Korin, alive and well and trigger-happy in an alley in Coronet City, and that had been enough to loosen one tight knot in his heart that had lodged there for almost a decade. The confirmation that Xaja had made it back to Republic Space safely loosened another knot, even if the news of a Jedi Knight matching her description infiltrating Dromund Kaas itself and killing the Emperor himself made Reanden nearly have a heart attack. He still couldn’t decide if he was bursting with pride at her impossible feat or panicking because she did  _what?!_

In all the chaos of the Emperor’s assassination by a Jedi, the news of Darth Thanaton losing the _kageth_ he’d declared against Lord Kallig and being replaced on the Dark Council by the younger Sith almost passed unnoticed. But once he’d had a chance to breathe after the Star Cabal’s fall, Imperial Intelligence dissolving, and his allegiance to the SIS confirmed to an apologetic Kothe, Reanden took a long, hard look at the man who’d just been named Darth Imperius.  _He doesn’t show his face - if I were eighteenyears old and on the Dark Council, I’d hide my age too. The mask looks like the one Vector found on the security footage. Who else would have styled themselves as Lord Kallig?_ Reanden paused in thought.  _He says he’s a descendant of the Kallig of legend. Is that on my side or his mother’s?_

But that wasn’t the most important question. Was that actually Sorand under the mask? Did he remember his father? Or worse, did he blame his father for his mother’s death, the loss of his brother, and his years as a slave?  _He wouldn’t be wrong to do so,_ Reanden bitterly thought as he habitually slid a knife into his boot, strapped a pistol to his thigh, and left his small apartment in Dromund Kaas for the Sith sanctum. There was only one way to answer those questions.

* * *

The quarters that used to belong to Darth Thanaton were easy enough to locate, and it was almost disturbingly easy how Reanden’s credentials let him in.  _If this is Sorand, I’ll have to talk to him about upgrading security in here. The youngest member of the Dark Council will be an easy target._

He rounded a corner and froze outside the door. There was the man he dearly hoped was actually his son, still wearing dark robes and a hood, his distinctive mask sitting on the desk. Two others stood with him - a Togruta with two lightsabers on her belt, and a skinny human male in military dress, holding a stack of books - real paper books, not the flimsi-page texts or datapads more commonly seen throughout the galaxy. “If I’d known Thanaton had this vast of a library,” Imperius was saying as he removed another text from a shelf, “I’d have integrated myself with him as an apprentice instead of Zash. I could spend months in here!” He sounded far more gleeful and excited than any Darth had a right to - something in his voice reminded Reanden of the excitement Sorand had shown whenever he’d been given a new story as a child.

“This is a treasure, my lord,” the human agreed with an eager nod of his head. “For this alone, fighting him was worth it, if it’s not to bold of me to say.”

Imperius chuckled as he ran his gloved hand down a book’s spine. “It’s hardly too bold, Talos. Earning a seat on the Dark Council is just a bonus.”

That definitely sounded like Sorand. Reanden smiled, then noticed the Togruta look at him and narrow her eyes. “My lord,” she said with a distinctly Republic accent (Coruscanti, if Reanden had to place it), “we have a visitor.”

“Hmm,” Imperius said as he turned to the door. “It appears that-” He caught sight of Reanden’s face as the agent straightened into proper Imperial military posture and tripped over his words for a second. “- that we do.” That face was virtually identical to the one Reanden had seen on the security camera footage from Lavisar… the same face he’d watched be dragged onto a slaver’s cargo ship through darkening vision, unable to regain his feet and rescue his son no matter what he did. Stars, had he ever grown up to resemble his mother. “Talos, Ashara, leave us.”

“My lord?” The Togruta looked in confusion at her master. “Are you sure you do not us to-”

“He will not be a threat.” Imperius-  _Sorand_ \- hadn’t looked away from Reanden’s face. “Go.”

“… Yes, my lord.” Talos set his pile of books on the desk and hurried out of the room with Ashara in tow, giving the old agent a curious look as the pair passed by. The door slid closed behind them, leaving Reanden alone with the Sith Lord.

Sorand pushed his hood back from his pale face, staring at Reanden in shock. “You’re dead,” he whispered. “I saw them shoot you.”

Reanden had to try speaking a few times before his vocal cords decided they were going to work. “It was a near thing,” he quietly said. “I almost didn’t survive.” That scar on his shoulder, dangerously near his lung, was one he’d carry for the rest of his life. If it hadn’t been for that SIS strike team being in the area who’d known his allegiance…

Sorand took a hesitant step forward. “Why didn’t you come sooner?” he asked, and now Reanden could see the grief in his eyes. Brown like his father’s, not sulphuric yellow. “It was five  _kriffing_  years in slave pens after Mum died. Where were you?”

“Always one step too slow,” Reanden confessed. “I was delayed getting back to Lavisar in the first place, otherwise I would have been there. I hunted for you and Korin as soon as I returned, tracked down the slavers who’d taken you, found out they had sold you off the day before.” He had to swallow harshly around the lump in his throat. “That was it for five years- always looking for you and your brother, finding leads on you, and getting there too late, whether by two hours or a week… Ziost was the first time I caught up to you.”

“And they shot you,” Sorand finished. “They shot you and… you were the last family I had. I… I lost it, killed one of them with the Force, would have killed more if they hadn’t knocked me out.”

Reanden nodded. “When I tracked them down later, they said you’d been shipped off to Korriban after that little demonstration. They didn’t live long enough to regret their life choices.”

“You were the one who killed them on Tatooine,” Sorand realized, eyes wide. “I found them about a week after you got there… I may have lost it when I realized I couldn’t get revenge for your death.”

That earned a rueful chuckle from the old agent as he carefully took a step forward. “They took you from me again, when I had you within arm’s reach. That was enough for me to end them all, no matter that you’d upgraded from slavery to being a Sith.”

“Korriban… the once place you and Mum never wanted me to end up,” Sorand weakly smiled. “And the one place that got me strong enough to start planning revenge for you, for Mum, for Korin. All I wanted was to survive long enough to get revenge for you.” A tear escaped and fell down his cheek. “… I missed you, Dad.”

And a heartbeat later, Cipher Nine was holding Darth Imperius tightly and raking his fingers through the Sith’s long hair as the younger man’s shoulders shook. “I’ve got you, son,” he whispered, unheeding of the tears falling down his own face.  _When did my boy get this much taller than me?_ “I’m never losing you again, I promise. Dad’s here, buddy… and I’m so damn proud of you.”

“Don’t ever leave again, Dad. Never. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’ll be close enough that you’ll probably be sick of me before long.” Reanden was rewarded with a broken chuckle from his son. “I’ve got you, and I’m never letting go again.”


End file.
